On Delusions of Grandeur, and their practical application
30 May 2008 at 6:31 pm

"She's California beautiful. I prefer New York beautiful."
"What's the difference?"
"California beautiful is perfect, sometimes tacky. New York beautiful is imperfect, sometimes ugly. It's more personal."

I decided to fuck with him, knowing he has a thing for me. "Look at you, with the new hair color!" His hair color was the same; he'd gotten a tan from working on the sailboat. I wanted him to know I might think to notice something different about him, but not care enough to notice what was different.
Later that night, in between my brother and I doing our 4am scholarly roundtable about Chuck Palahniuk (literally, you guys, that actually happened, and the Beatles played softly in the background, nitrous was being passed around, and I was wrapped in a blanket wanting desperately to snuggle with the guy who was sitting next to me but not doing anything about it because my brother was in the room),he would say that it was interesting that I'd noticed his hair was different, because it wasn't, and that's when he started talking about the sailboats and whatnot. That led to a discussion on the reason I was in town in the first place, about what in the hell we're gonna do with the rest of our lives, what Matt's going to do now that our dad has stopped paying for school.

That's not why I went up there. I went up there because I wanted to say that I went up there, but didn't know why when I booked the ticket. I wanted to be able to use the word "kismet" in describing a particular event that happened to and because of me. But I didn't want to have to lie about it; I need witnesses for my plans to work, to add legitimacy to my manipulation, to utilize the energy I have to control people into something harmless. If everything I really wanted was achieved completely behind the scenes, with no paper trail, I would hurt people. And I don't want to do that, not yet. The people who realize how my actions manipulate others, the smart ones, see that only reasonably positive things are happening, so they may not like me and not realize it, but they respect me.

I'm at my best when I'm doing exactly what I want to do, not censoring myself, which is what I have to do for money. That's my real job, that's where all my energy goes, to censoring myself. And when I'm good, I'm good, but when I let myself go, I'm better. That's when things really start happening.That's why I work so much; I'm not sure I'm ready for that much power, that much responsibility.

I like you for what you do for me. I'll love you when I want to do everything for you. That takes time; all initial interaction is selfish.

These are my delusions of grandeur, and I'm not sure what's real and what's not, but neither do you.

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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.